


Strange Relationship

by Kalkasar (Mordhena), Mordhena



Series: A Question of Time [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Bossy Malcolm Reed, M/M, New Relationship, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: Sequel toA Question of TimeMalcolm and Trip attempt (awkwardly) to figure out how a relationship between them can work.With two such strong-willed men getting it together, there's bound to be a bit of head-knocking,power struggles and a need for alotof negotiation and compromise.Can their budding relationship survive?Fits within Season 1 of ENT from Vox Sola to Shuttle Pod One
Relationships: Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Series: A Question of Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980130
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Ambushed

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack for this fic: _[Strange Relationship](https://youtu.be/Col15AJMUpM)_ by Darren Hayes.
> 
> _Do you love me? Or am I just another trip  
>  In this strange relationship  
> You push and pull me  
> 'Till I'm about to lose my mind  
> Is this just a waste of time?_
> 
> _Keep acting like you own me  
>  I keep running watch me walkin' out that door  
> I hear you behind me_
> 
> _Gimme that strange relationship  
>  Never felt pleasure and pain like this  
> Something so right but it feels so terribly wrong  
> I keep holding on  
> _
> 
> * * *
> 
> __

As Trip stepped out of his quarters a slim, wiry form ambushed him,  
pushing him back through the door, into his cabin. Eager lips claimed his in a  
searing kiss while hands roamed over his body drawing a  
sharp gasp of need from him. He closed his eyes, moaning into the kiss and  
returning it with the same fervor that Malcolm gave it.  
  
When his lips were released Trip chuckled, gazing into a pair of smoky grey  
eyes as he murmured. "Well, hello to you, too."  
  
"Where have you been, Commander?" Malcolm's voice was a throaty growl. "It  
seems like eternity since we shared my brandy."  
  
Trip's smile faded just a little at the use of his rank, but he leaned in  
close to the lieutenant as he replied. "Been busy. The Capn's ridin' me  
about those warp reactor upgrades."  
  
"As long as that's the only way he's riding you." Malcolm purred, brushing  
his lips across Trip's mouth once more.  
  
"I like it when you get all possessive of me." Trip grinned, trying to steal  
another kiss.  
  
"Well, he looks at you... funny."  
  
"He does? How's that?"  
  
"My dear Mister Tucker, haven't you noticed how he positions himself between  
us whenever he enters a room?"  
  
"No." Trip frowned. "I can't say that I have...when did he do that?"  
  
"Only every time he has been with us since the he caught me kissing you  
in the Armory." Malcolm pulled Trip closer against him, grinding his hips  
against him.  
  
"I honestly haven't noticed," Trip said. He smiled and looked into  
the grey eyes that held his own. "But you don't need to worry. There's  
nothin' between the cap'n and me." He ventured a kiss and was rewarded when  
Malcolm's mouth claimed his, tongue thrusting between his parted lips.  
  
They were both panting when the kiss ended, and Malcolm traced a thumb  
across Trip's kiss swollen lips. "So, your Yankee arse belongs to me?"  
He punctuated his question by gripping Trip's behind with both hands and  
pulling him hard against himself.  
  
"All yours, Malcolm."  
  
"My quarters after shift," Malcolm whispered next to his ear. "We'll...go  
over the finer details." He nipped Trip's earlobe and turned him lose.  
  
"I can't wait," Trip said, though he wondered how he would  
make it out of his quarters and back to work after such an interlude. His  
heart raced, and there was an excess of blood creating difficulties down  
below. He passed his tongue across swollen lips and met Malcolm's eyes for a  
moment. "Ya know, ya could've commed me...if all you wanted was to make a  
date." His blue eyes twinkled as he straightened his rumpled uniform.  
  
"Oh, but this way is eminently more enjoyable," Malcolm said. He helped Trip  
to tidy up before they both stepped into the hallway. "See you  
this evening."  
  
Trip had a grin on his face a mile wide when he returned to engineering that  
afternoon. His staff were glad to see him happier than he'd been when he  
decided to take a lunch break. They didn't know what had occurred to lift  
the engineer's mood, but it didn't matter, as long as he was no longer  
scowling and snapping at them.  
  
They worked steadily until the end of the alpha shift and accomplished more  
with Trip in a cheerful frame of mind than they had earlier that day.  
  
After a short debriefing with Archer, Trip politely declined an  
invitation to dinner in the captain's mess.

  
He went home and showered quickly. Dressed in a clean blue shirt and casual  
pants, he walked the short distance to Malcolm's quarters. With both of them  
being bridge crew, it meant their cabins were on the same deck, which was  
convenient if one or the other had to get home in a hurry.  
  
A few moments later he paused at Malcolm’s door and pressed the  
door chime.  
  
"Come," Malcolm called and Trip stepped into the room.  
  
Malcolm looked fresh and relaxed, clad in a tight white t-shirt and dark  
colored pants.  
  
Trip sniffed the air appreciatively. "Somethin' smells good!"  
  
"Yes. It's you." Malcolm stepped forward and gathered Trip into his arms,  
seeking his mouth with eager lips, pulling him into a kiss that started  
out tender but quickly heated into a passionate clash of  
lips and tongues as each man struggled to take control of the other.  
  
They broke apart, panting when the need for oxygen compelled them.  
Trip gave a low whistle. "If that's the appetizer, I can't wait for main course,"  
he said with a grin.  
  
"Oh, just wait until you see what I have planned for dessert." Malcolm moved  
to the other side of the room and busied himself serving food from a steward’s trolley.  
"I took the liberty to order dinner. Meatloaf all right?"  
  
"Yeah." Trip took a seat. "How was your day?"  
  
"Fine," Malcolm said as he handed Trip a plate and took a seat opposite.  
He had something that looked like fish on his plate and Trip shook his head.  
  
"Y’know, you need fattenin'," he said softly. "Do you ever eat meat?"  
  
"Of course I do," Malcolm replied with a frown. "I just wasn't in the mood  
for it tonight."  
  
"Uh-huh..." Trip paused to take a mouthful of food and chew it carefully  
before he washed it down with a sip of water. "I don't think I have ever  
seen you eat anythin' aside from eggs, pasta, fish and... pineapple cake." He  
ended his statement with a grin. "Momma would say you need to get some  
good ol' Texas steak into ya."  
  
Malcolm shot him a darkening look across the table and Trip laughed.  
  
"All right now, keep yer shirt on. I'm just kiddin’ you."  
  
Malcolm hesitated a moment before his lips broke into a small, almost  
reluctant smile. "The only beefcake I need is sitting on the other  
side of the table," he said.  
  
To his chagrin, Trip felt a deep blush steal into his cheeks. He let his  
gaze fall to his plate, concentrating fiercely on his food.  
  
"Oh, I see how it is," Malcolm said. "You can dish it out, but you can't take  
it."  
  
Trip cleared his throat, reaching for his water glass. "Is that how you see  
me?" he asked. "Some kind of calendar boy?"  
  
"Well, I should say if the cap fits... surely you’re aware of the talk around the  
lower decks?"  
  
"Talk? What talk?" Trip scowled, and set the glass down  
with more force than he had intended, splashing a little water onto the  
table.  
  
"Oh, nothing much really. A little innocent speculation..." Malcolm cut  
himself another bite of fish, keeping his eyes averted as he ate it.  
  
"What _kinda_ 'speculation?’" Trip laid down his knife and fork and stared Malcolm  
until he caught the faint glint of amusement in Malcolm's eyes.  
"God dammit! You're windin' me up, aren't you?"  
  
"I couldn't resist." Malcolm laughed. "You do rise to a bait so very well!"  
  
"Well, I can see I'm gonna hafta watch you." Trip picked up a napkin and  
wiped his mouth. Tossing it aside, he moved around the table to stand behind  
Malcolm's chair. He let his hands rest on the lieutenant's shoulders for a  
moment, then bent down to graze his lips across one ear. "Come  
to bed, Mister Reed, before I'm forced to give you the lecture you so richly  
deserve." He nipped Malcolm's earlobe and then sucked the fleshy nub into his  
mouth, teasing it with his teeth.  
  
"Oh I can't have that," Malcolm said as he stood up and moved into Trip's  
arms. "We'd never get to dessert then." He was answered by a gentle snort of  
laughter.  
  
"Yeah, momma always said I could talk the hind leg off of a mule." Trip  
said. His hands were busy tugging Malcolm's shirt out of the waistband of  
his pants as he pushed the Reed towards the bed.  
  
"Oh dear, sex _and_ conversation... how jolly!" Malcolm sank down on the bed,  
pulling Trip with him so that they lay pressed together, lips and hands eagerly  
engaged in exploration and getting rid of clothing.  
  
Malcolm sucked in a breath as Trip took hold of his penis in one strong  
hand, stroking him slowly while his lips and tongue lazily teased his mouth for  
a moment before making their way lower.  
  
Trip licked and nuzzled his way down along Malcolm's body, breathing  
spicy scent of cologne as he went. Pausing at Malcolm's  
chest, he drew a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling playfully and  
listening to the quiet sighs and moans his ministrations elicited. He  
growled with desire as he made the journey across Malcolm’s flat belly,  
nipping more sharply, so that Malcolm whimpered and squirmed  
with pleasure.  
  
When he reached Malcolm's groin, Trip paused and looked up, remembering the  
man's reluctance to allow this pleasure the last few times they were  
together. "Malcolm?"  
  
"Yes!" Malcolm hissed. "Oh God. Yes..."  
  
Trip needed no further urging. He dipped his head and lathed his tongue  
around the head of Malcolm's cock a couple of times before he sucked it into  
his mouth. He steadied his partner's hips with both hands, holding him  
gently, so that he would not gag from the eager thrusting of Malcolm's body.  
  
Although it had been years since Trip had given this kind of pleasure to a  
man, he made up for his rustiness with his enthusiasm. He took Malcolm's  
whole length into his mouth, allowing his tongue to play along the rigid  
organ and sucked gently as he drew back to the tip. He gave the head special  
attention, running his tongue around the sensitive ridges and into the tiny  
slit, tasting the salty tang of precum.  
  
Malcolm let out a shuddering moan tangling his fingers into Trip's  
hair as he lost himself in the heady sensations.  
"It's been so long..." Eyes closed, fingers clenching and unclenching gently in the  
fine golden hair of his partner. "God...so long!"  
  
Trip made a low sound of acknowledgement, taking Malcolm deeper into his  
throat as his fingers found the man's balls, gently massaging them as  
he ran his mouth up and down the shaft.  
  
Panting breath and gentle moans that built in intensity were the only sounds  
in the room for the next few minutes until with a sudden, sharp cry, Malcolm  
climaxed, shuddering as his release was eagerly swallowed.  
  
Trip let Malcolm out of his mouth and slid upwards along the sated body of  
his partner. He placed a gentle kiss on Malcolm's chin.  
  
Malcolm reached out blindly, pulling Trip close and plundering his mouth,  
savoring his own essence on his partner's tongue and rolling over  
on top of Trip before he pulled back and gazed down into hazy blue  
eyes. "Will you stay with me tonight?"  
  
Trip tensed a little, his features clouding with a frown. He reached up to  
lightly caress Malcolm's cheek. "Malcolm..." he said on a breathy sigh. "I  
don't think that's a good idea."  
  
Smoky eyes filled with confusion as Trip looked into them. He sighed again  
and forced a faint smile to his lips. "We're busy, Malcolm...I don't...I don't  
wanna make you late for work again." He swallowed as he watched emotions flicker  
through Malcolm's features in quick succession. Trip had never seen him that way - with  
every thought and feeling expressed in his eyes. It awed him. It almost frightened him.  
Trip wanted to stay, and yet he couldn’t forget the last time he and Malcolm had spent  
the night together. It had ended on a sour note the following morning.  
  
Trip didn't want anything to spoil the closeness he felt right now, but he also didn't want  
to leave on bad terms again in the morning. He gazed into Malcolm's eyes, silently pleading for  
understanding.  
  
"Right." Malcolm said.  
  
Trip felt the barrier come up between them like a physical wall. Malcolm's  
expression was suddenly aloof. No emotion, just the quiet  
reserve that Malcolm projected on duty. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"Malcolm..." Trip pushed himself up on one elbow. "Please don't..."  
  
"No, you're right, of course," Malcolm glanced at him. "We can't afford the  
distraction right now." There was a knife-edge brittleness in his tone. "Forget I asked."  
  
"Malcolm!" Trip sat up on the edge of the bed and pushed his hands through  
his hair. He sighed with frustration and glanced over his shoulder. "Why do you have to lock me out?"  
  
Malcolm didn't reply. He lay very still, eyes closed, and lips pressed together in a thin line.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Trip sighed and stood up, gathered his clothes, which were  
scattered around the room. He put on his briefs and pants and still Malcolm  
didn't move or make a sound. Trip stood for a moment, staring at him. He  
couldn't understand how Malcolm could change so completely in such a short  
time. A few moments ago, he'd been open. Warm and alive in Trip's arms and  
now he was as cold and unmovable as stone.  
  
With a sigh that verged on anger, Trip moved to the bed and sat  
down, nudging Malcolm's arm. "Mister Reed!"  
  
Malcolm opened his eyes and looked at Trip. "Are you still here? I thought  
you'd gone."  
  
"Shit, Malcolm, cut the crap wouldya?" Trip gritted his teeth. "You knew  
very well I was still here!"  
  
Malcolm turned away. "I think you should go, Commander."  
  
"I... think we need to work a few things out."  
  
"I'm tired and I have early shift tomorrow, as you know. I'd like you to  
leave." Malcolm kept his back to Trip, not even glancing over his shoulder.  
  
"All right." Trip got up and put his shirt on. "But I wanna  
tell ya – we’re not done, Malcolm. I'll be back here and I'll  
be in your face 'til you talk to me!" He took a few steps towards the  
door then stopped. "I think we could have somethin' special, Malcolm,  
but you hafta know I can't take too much pushin' and pullin'! You either  
want me in your life or y’don't. I'm not gonna dangle on a string waitin'  
for you to make up your mind if y’got time for me or not!"  
  
"You're the one who decided you don't want to stay." Malcolm got up, reached for his briefs,  
which lay on the floor at the end of the bed. He put them on and sat down, casting Trip a cool  
glance as he did so. "Don't try and blame me for this, Commander. I was quite happy to have  
you here tonight."  
  
"Yeah, so you could push me around in the mornin' and ... and ..." Trip  
stopped as the armory officer looked up at him. There was something in  
Malcolm's eyes that hadn't been there before. Hurt. The reserve had slipped.  
Malcolm stared at him in silence and Trip took a half step forward.  
"Malcolm... I..."  
  
The lieutenant looked away. "Just go, Trip. Please."  
  
"Malcolm..."  
  
"Go!" Malcolm rubbed his temple with the tips of his fingers.  
  
Trip's shoulders drooped in defeat and he nodded. "All right." He picked up  
his socks and shoes and walked to the door, casting one last look at the  
armory officer as the door opened. "I'll see you tomorrow." He said  
before he stepped out into the hallway.  
  



	2. Shadows Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for _Shadows of P'Jem_

Malcolm Reed stood by a console in the armory reviewing a set of  
calibrations for the phase canons. He sighed as he glanced at the data pad  
in his hand and compared the calculations there with what was displayed on  
the console screen.  
  
"It's _still_ off by three microns," he muttered. His  
brows knitted in frustration and he shook his head. Nothing was going right  
today. Had he allowed himself such folly, he would have  
thought that it was somehow connected to his date with  
Trip the night before, but Malcolm Reed would never entertain such superstitious  
ballyhoo. His bad day had nothing to do with that. It was mere coincidence.  
  
The fact that he hadn't slept much _might_ have something  
to do with it, but that was as far as the connection went. He refused to let  
his mind run away with him.  
  
Malcolm moved to another station and tapped in a series of  
commands. He would run another simulation and see if he could spot what was  
making this targeting scanner malfunction so often. This had to be the  
tenth time this week he had realigned the damn thing, and he was becoming  
increasingly frustrated.  
  
When the comm panel chirped at his side, Malcolm nearly jumped out of his  
skin.  
  
"Bridge to Lieutenant Reed."  
  
Reaching for the button, Malcolm didn't take his eyes off the simulation he  
was running. "Reed here,"  
  
"The captain and Sub Commander T'Pol are going down to the surface of  
Coridan. Captain Archer wants you to prep Shuttlepod 1," Hoshi's said.  
  
"Acknowledged." Malcolm released the button and shut down the simulation.  
Laying the data pad on a console, he walked out of the armory and headed  
for the launch bay.  
  
Malcolm's heart missed a beat when he walked into the launch bay to  
find Trip already there. He hesitated, then straightened  
his shoulders and moved to a console, keeping his eyes averted. "Good  
morning, Commander," he said evenly.  
  
"Lieutenant." The commander didn't deign to look  
at him. Reed commenced preparations for launch,  
relieved that Trip was keeping things on a professional level.  
  
They worked in silence to prep the small craft for flight, and when it  
was done, Malcolm moved to a weapons locker, taking out phase pistols and  
checking them over before handing one off to Trip. He paused and raised an  
eyebrow when Trip shook his head.  
  
"I won't be needin' it," Trip said. "Cap'n's not taking me on this one."  
  
"Oh." Malcolm replaced the pistol, but he pushed the other one he held into  
a holster at his hip. He handed two more pistols to Archer and T'Pol when  
they arrived. "I've checked them, and they are functonal," he said as  
he fell in alongside Archer.  
  
The captain turned to look at him with a smile. "Well done, Malcolm." He  
nodded in dismissal and turned to T'Pol. "Let's go."  
  
"Sir?" Malcolm took a half step forward. "Do you think it is wise to...?"  
  
"Malcolm, Coridan has a long association with the Vulcans," Archer said,  
pausing to look over his shoulder. "We've been invited to meet with the  
Coridan Chancellor. I don't anticipate any trouble." He turned away, moving  
towards the shuttlepod.  
  
"Yes, sir." Reed turned and walked out of the launch bay with Trip.  
  
Once the doors of the small flight control center closed behind them, Trip  
turned to look at him. "You didn't answer my messages."  
  
"I've been busy, Commander." Malcolm moved to a console, preparing to open  
the launch bay doors.  
  
"Right." Trip's voice held a heavy edge of disbelief.  
  
Malcolm ignored it, focusing on the controls in front of him.  
  
"Malcolm." Trip moved to stand in front of the console, watching as the  
lieutenant opened the launch doors and the shuttlepod cleared the bay. "We  
need to talk things out. You can't just..."  
  
"Excuse me, sir." Malcolm looked up and met the blue eyes of the chief  
engineer. "I have a lot to attend to today." He nodded briefly and stepped  
away from the console, moving towards the lift. He winced as Trip’s hand   
closed around his upper arm.  
  
"I'm not gonna drop this, Malcolm," Trip said. He swung the lieutenant  
around to face him. "I wanna see you in my quarters after shift."  
  
"Is that an order?" Malcolm watched as blue eyes registered shock, and  
then rage. He stared at Trip, unmoving for several moments; watching the  
commander make a great effort to contain his temper.  
  
"Of all the low down stinkin'..." Trip began, and then he stopped as a comm  
panel beeped.  
  
"Bridge to Commander Tucker." Travis Mayweather's said.  
  
Trip moved to the panel and thumbed the button. "Tucker here." He sent  
Malcolm a look that dared him to budge one inch from where he'd  
left him.  
  
"Sir, shuttlepod one has disappeared from sensors, and the captain isn't  
responding to hails," Travis said over the comms. "We can't locate the  
shuttlepod, but it went down before it reached the designated landing site."  
  
Blue eyes met grey across the room. "Lieutenant Reed and I are on our way to  
the bridge," Tucker said. "Keep trying to contact the Captain." He  
released the comm button and walked to the lift. All thoughts of his  
dispute with Malcolm were pushed aside in the face of the emergency.


	3. Shadows Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: _Shadow's of P'Jem_

It was pitch dark, the black hood over his head obscuring all light. The incessant   
chirping of night insects created a muted background to his  
thoughts. He gritted his teeth, twisting his wrists against the tight  
bonds that held his hands behind his back.  
  
At his side, he could feel his fellow captive engaged in the same silent  
struggle. There was a sharp hiss of pain, quickly stifled and he felt the  
man beside him tense for an instant before the struggles began anew.  
  
They were jumped a few minutes after landing on the planet's surface. They  
were outnumbered, and the two assailants had pushed him backwards along the  
alley, slamming him painfully against a wall. A black hood was pulled  
swiftly over his head. Blinded, Malcolm had been unable to fight the men who  
attacked him. The sounds of frustrated shouts and curses told him Tucker had  
met the same fate.  
  
Malcolm growled with exasperation. The cords around his wrists wouldn't budge  
and his skin was raw from chafing against them.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
He answered the whispered query with a grunt.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Not your fault," Malcolm said through clenched teeth. He pulled against the  
restraints again, testing for any sign of loosening. He was unsure how long  
they'd been tied up here. The black hood over his head made it difficult to  
orient himself or keep track of time. "We have  
to get free," he added, and heard a sound of assent from the commander.  
  
They struggled in silence for several minutes more until the sound of a door  
opening froze them. Malcolm tensed, raising his head inside the hood,  
straining to hear anything that would give him a clue to their captor's  
size, or weight, anything that might help him plan a tactical response.  
  
As best he could tell, there were two people in the room, one of them had  
moved to the side of where they sat. The other was somewhere behind him. He  
heard footfalls and the hood was suddenly yanked away. Light  
flooded his vision, he closed his eyes for a moment. The person  
who had removed the hood stepped into the shadows and Malcolm cursed  
under his breath. For the moment they, whoever they were, held the advantage. He  
glanced at Tucker, waiting to see what the commander would do.  
  
"You should have listened to the Vulcan." A voice spoke from the shadows.  
"He warned you against doing anything foolish." A man stepped forward from  
the shadows, His face still obscured, but Malcolm could see enough to  
realize the man was Andorian. He squinted, trying to make out facial  
features.  
  
"What the hell are you doin' here?" Trip said, staring up at the man who  
stood over him.  
  
"Looking out for you pink skins." The Andorian stepped forward and Malcolm   
immediately recognized Shran. One of the Andorians  
they had met at the Vulcan monastery.  
  
"If you'd have gone anywhere near that shuttlepod," Shran said, "You'd have  
been killed." He moved to lean against a wall, looking down at them.  
  
Malcolm studied Shran's face for a moment, glancing to Trip to gauge his  
reaction. If memory served him correctly, the Andorians hadn't been  
exactly friendly the last time the Enterprise crew encountered them and he  
wasn't prepared to trust them just yet.  
  
He listened with only half an ear to Shran's posturing about the  
'treacherous Vulcans' his mind occupied with planning a means of  
escape. With their hands tied, he and Trip were still at a heavy  
disadvantage but Shran and his sidekick didn't appear to be armed. If he  
could relay his intentions to Tucker, somehow, they might be able  
to overpower at least one of the Andorians. He lowered his eyes, keeping his  
expression carefully neutral.  
  
"You tried to kill us the last time we met," Trip said. "Why are trying to  
help us now?"  
  
"I haven't...slept well since our encounter at the Vulcan sanctuary," Shran  
replied. "I don't like being indebted to anyone... least of all your  
captain."  
  
Malcolm started slightly as he felt cold metal press against his wrists. His  
heart leaped into overdrive as he tensed, ready to fight if necessary, but  
the blade sliced through the cords and he brought his hands to the front,  
rubbing the chafed skin as Tucker was cut loose as well.  
  
So, it seemed that the Andorians, for whatever reason were willing to ally  
themselves with himself and Tucker. He could accept that, although years of  
training told him not to trust too easily, or too completely.

He looked over their map of the compound, listening as Tholos explained where the  
captain and sub commander were being held, and the number of guards. He was  
relieved when Shran eventually agreed to take Tucker and himself along on  
the rescue attempt.  
  
A complete fiasco, he thought later as he lay in bed trying to rest and  
recover from the minor, but irritating injuries he'd received on the  
mission. Mostly bruising and rope burns, they would heal quickly, but were a  
smarting reminder to him of his own laxness.  
  
Malcolm sighed staring into the darkness of his quarters. He should have  
been more wary in that shantytown. The fact they had walked unchallenged  
through what amounted to a rebel outpost should have alerted him to trouble  
long before it happened. He didn't even have a phase pistol in his hand as  
he and Tucker sauntered through the small compound, scanning for the  
shuttlepod.  
  
Once again, his dereliction had lead him, and members of his crew into  
potentially life threatening danger. He muttered a curse and sat up on the  
side of the bed.  
  
Admittedly, he couldn't have foreseen the attack by the Vulcans. They  
had managed to rescue the captain and T'Pol. Yet he hadn't even noticed the  
threat to Sopeck. It should have been he, not T'Pol who intervened to  
protect the Vulcan captain. What if that bullet had been meant for Archer?  
  
Malcolm palmed his face and growled softly. He'd failed again. Yet more  
proof that his father was right. He wasn't cut out for this life. He should  
have stayed with the navy, safe on Earth where he wouldn't constantly bring  
trouble on his crewmates.  
  
It was a bad ending to a bad couple of days. Nothing had gone right. Nothing  
had worked out as planned. From his date the previous evening with Tucker  
right through to his miserable failure on Coridan.  
  
Malcolm sighed. Perhaps it was time he faced the facts and applied to be   
transferred back home. It was obvious that he was not cutting it out here.  
  
"Starfleet's finest?" Malcolm snorted derisively. "Hardly."


	4. Factors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoliers: Shuttlepod One
> 
> Factor: One of the elements, circumstances, or influences which contribute  
> to produce a result; a constituent.
> 
> * * *

**Part 1**

  
  
  
"T'Pol not joinin' us tonight?" Trip glanced towards the table in the  
captain's mess where only two places were set.  
  
"No. I gave her the night off, even though she won't admit it, she's still  
recovering from that bullet she took on Coridan."  
  
Trip nodded and moved to sit at the table. He glanced at the captain  
briefly, noting the look in the man's eyes. "I've told ya, Cap'n. You oughta  
stop mooning over that woman, she's never gonna warm up to ya in a hundred  
years." He grinned as Archer met his eyes. "And before ya ask, yeah. It's  
that obvious."  
  
Captain Archer smiled at his friend and sat down, waiting for the steward to  
set the plates in front of them before he picked up a bottle of wine,  
offering to pour for Trip. "How're things going with you and Malcolm?" he  
asked. He glanced into the blue eyes of his best friend as he poured two  
glasses of wine.  
  
"Goin'?" Trip picked up his glass. He avoided the captain's eyes as he took  
a sip of the dark red liquid. The fact was, things were not 'going' anywhere  
between himself and Malcolm. He had tried several times after they returned  
from Coridan to contact Reed, but each time he'd met with the  
lieutenant's personal messaging system and Malcolm had not bothered to  
return his calls.  
  
Archer nodded, taking Trip's prolonged silence as an answer. He picked up a  
fork and stabbed at some vegetables. "You know he's applied for a transfer  
back to Earth..." The captain trailed off at a strangled sound from the  
other side of the table, and looked up just in time to watch as Trip  
choked on a mouthful of wine.  
  
"He's what?" Trip's face was scarlet as he fought for air. "What the hell?"  
He paused for a moment while he caught his breath and composed himself.  
"What'd you say?"  
  
"I asked him to give it some more thought," Archer replied. "There were  
still some modifications he had to finish up on shuttlepod 1." The captain  
paused. "But he says he is ready to test them."  
  
Trip swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to his plate. He struggled to keep  
his voice level as he spoke through the thick knot of anger in the back of his throat.  
"Well, at least one of us has his head on straight." He met Archer's eyes.  
"Why the hell does he wanna leave?"  
  
"He didn't say. I figured it might have something to do with your  
relationship..."  
  
"We don't have a relationship," Trip muttered. "Not now. Not ever I don't  
think he was..." He stopped, not wanting to reveal too many details of his  
brief entanglement with Malcolm. With a sigh, he pushed his plate aside and  
leaned back in his chair suddenly not hungry. "So you're  
gonna let him go?"  
  
"If that's what he wants, Trip. I can't force him to stay, but I'll be sorry  
to lose him."  
  
_You and me both_ , Trip thought, but he kept that to himself as he reached for  
the wine bottle. Pausing in the act of pouring, he looked into his  
friend's eyes. "You got anythin' stronger?"  
  
Archer nodded and got up. Moving to a liquor cabinet. He took  
out a bottle of brandy and held it up. "This strong enough?"  
  
Trip nodded. "That oughta just about do it."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Trip rolled onto his back and groaned as the movement set off a  
series of plasma explosions behind his eyes. He winced, stilling and  
passed his tongue across his lips. "Oh gawd..." he moaned, "wha'himme?"  
  
His parches mouth tasted of stale brandy and somehow he couldn't get his  
eyes open. He raised both hands to rub his pounding temples. "Any minute  
now, mah head is just gonna explode." He complained.  
  
"Well, you did put away two bottles of my best brandy last night... followed by half  
a bottle of beer."  
  
Trip froze. "Cap'n?" Oh shit, he had overslept and missed the start of his  
shift, and the captain had come to get him personally. Trip struggled to sit  
up. "I...I'm sorry, Cap..." he forced his eyes open and blinked in confusion  
to find that he was not in his own cabin and the bed he lay in was not his  
own. "What the hell?"  
  
Archer laughed softly, watching Trip from where he sat at the small table  
near the door. "Don't worry, Trip. _I_ was a perfect gentleman," the captain  
said.  
  
Tucker nodded. "Uh-huh..." he swung his legs over the side of the bed and  
rubbed his face with both hands. He looked up quickly as a sudden thought  
struck him. "Was I?"  
  
"You mean - you don't remember?" Archer's face mirrored sudden hurt and  
bewilderment. He looked away.  
  
"C-cap'n?" Trip tried standing up and was forced to wait until the room  
stopped spinning before he approached his friend. _Oh gawd, what'd I do?_ He  
asked himself. He wracked his brain, trying to recall what had happened the  
night before.  
  
Trip commander rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.  
"Cap'n..." He applied gentle pressure, trying to get the man to look at him.  
"Did I did we...oh geeze cap'n...I..."  
  
Archer's shoulders began to shake and Trip hunkered down in front of the  
man, seeking his eyes. "Cap'n you gotta believe me I..." he stopped in mid  
sentence as he looked into the laughing green eyes of his best friend and  
commanding officer. "Aww shit! You just dunno when to give it up, do ya!" He  
playfully struck Jon on the arm. "You had me goin'!"  
  
Archer composed himself a little. "You were too drunk to make your way  
home," he said. "I couldn't risk my chief engineer accidentally letting  
himself out an airlock. You passed before your head hit the pillows."  
He smiled and clapped the commander on the shoulder. "But you'd probably  
better head home and freshen up. I want you to go with Malcolm to conduct  
those tests on shuttlepod one."  
  
Trip was about to protest but closed his mouth when he met the  
firm look in the captain's eyes. Jonathan Archer was not about to listen to arguments.  
Trip nodded. "Yessir." He got up and grabbed his  
coveralls, slipping them on over the slept in skivvies and walked barefoot  
to the door where he picked up his boots.  
  
Pressing the door control, he stepped into the hallway, still snickering  
over the joke Archer had pulled on him. He shook his head and headed for his  
own quarters.  
  
"Good morning, Commander."  
  
Trip almost froze in his tracks as the cool, accented voice greeted him. He  
looked up to find himself gazing into steely grey eyes that slowly  
took in every inch of his appearance, from his unshaven face, to the rumpled  
uniform and bare feet.  
  
"I hope you had a pleasant night," Malcolm said quietly before he pushed  
past Trip and walked quickly away along the hallway.

  
**Part Two**  
  
After showering and changing into a fresh uniform, Trip shaved and went to  
the mess hall where he ate a light and extra greasy breakfast. His thoughts  
occupied with the encounter with Malcolm when he'd left the captain's  
quarters.  
  
That Malcolm had assumed the worst was obvious from the way the lieutenant  
reacted. Trip pondered how best to explain exactly what _had_ happened. A  
part of his mind also wondered why he should even bother. He still smarted  
under the knowledge that Malcolm had applied to return to Earth and had not  
even bothered to let him know.  
  
He sighed, mopping up egg yolk from his plate with the last remnant of a  
slice of toast. He would have to face Malcolm about this and other  
issues. The probability of maintaining a professional working relationship  
otherwise, looked grim.  
  
Trip shoved the last bite of toast into his mouth and picked up his coffee,  
downing the last mouthful before he got up, wiping his mouth with a napkin  
and headed for the launch bay. He was not looking forward to this mission.  
If he could have convincingly pulled off a sudden illness he may have been  
tempted to do so. That was not an option though; the captain would know he  
was malingering and would kick his ass for it as well. He steeled his nerves  
and stepped into the lift.  
  
Malcolm was already aboard the shuttlepod, running pre-flight checks when  
Trip arrived. He glanced up briefly as Trip climbed aboard and sealed the  
hatch. Catching a glimpse of the steely look in those grey eyes, Trip  
winced. This was going to be one hell of a mission, he could sense it  
already.  
  
He moved to the back of the pod, occupying himself with the impulse drive.  
They launched the pod and set course.  
  
Trip turned from his console once they were underway and looked at Malcolm  
who hovered over the nav' console, tacitly ignoring him. He let out a breath  
and moved forward. "Malcolm?"  
  
"Sir?" Malcolm didn't look up from what he was doing.  
  
Trip gave a slight shake of his head and sat on a chair behind the one  
Malcolm occupied. "Malcolm, about this morning, I... I think you deserve an  
explanation."  
  
"Why?" Malcolm shot him a brief glance before he returned to his console. "I  
don't think it's at all necessary."  
  
"Well, I do." Trip rubbed a hand through his hair. "Look, Malcolm, I know  
what you saw must've looked bad. I don't blame you for thinkin'..."  
  
"I don't think anything, Commander. It's really none of my business." The  
lieutenant ran his hands across the console, conducting meaningless  
simulations and diagnostics and Trip's patience finally deserted him.  
  
"Turn around here and look at me, Malcolm!"  
  
Cold, grey eyes met Trip's as the lieutenant turned to look at him. "If  
you insist, sir."  
  
"If you call me 'sir' one more time, I'm gonna..." A raised eyebrow was the  
only response. Trip found himself thinking that Malcolm was spending too  
much time with T'Pol.  
  
"Whether ya wanna hear it or not, you're gonna listen to what I have to say,  
Malcolm." Trip leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "What you  
saw this morning looked bad. But, you gotta know there was nothing  
going on there. I... I had a few drinks last night. I was drunk, the  
cap'n..."  
  
"Commander, really I don't think..."  
  
"Shut up, Malcolm! Just shut up and listen will ya?" Trip watched the  
Armory officer for a moment, and then went on. "The cap'n let me sleep it  
off in his cabin."  
  
"How very civil of him."  
  
"It's the truth, Malcolm. That's all it was." Trip turned away,  
moving aft. "You can think what you want, but Jon and  
I have never been anythin' more'n friends." He glanced back at the  
lieutenant to find him watching him with those steely grey eyes.  
  
They stared at each other in silence until Malcolm looked  
away. Trip frowned and sat down next to the engine, leaning his head against  
the wall and closing his eyes. His head still ached from the  
hangover effects of his binge the night before.  
  
Silence stretched between them for several minutes.  
  
"The cap'n told me you've applied to ship back home," Trip said at last.  
  
Malcolm stilled for a moment at his station. "Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Personal reasons."  
  
"Right." Trip shifted in his seat, seeking a more comfortable position.  
"Were you plannin' on lettin' me know?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
"I... don't know." Malcolm swiveled his chair to face Trip, and met his eyes  
directly for the first time since they'd launched the shuttle. "I don't know  
what, if anything we have," he said.  
  
"You don't know?" Trip sat upright, " _Y_ _ou_ don't know? What about me? I  
haven't known where I am with you once, Malcolm! You want me with ya an'  
then y'don't, I never know what's goin' on with you."  
  
"That's not entirely fair," Malcolm protested. "You've done your share of  
oscillating."  
  
"Yeah, maybe you're right, maybe I _have_ messed you around a little..."  
Trip took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. "But you're the one who  
made all the noise about not usin' people. I feel like you've been playin'  
with me, Malcolm." Trip looked away, staring blindly at a computer console.  
  
"I'm sorry..."  
  
The apology was spoken very softly and Trip turned to look at the  
lieutenant, meeting the other man's eyes and noting that the veiled and wary  
look had softened. He sighed. "Me too," he murmured.  
  
Malcolm nodded and turned to his console, tapping a control and then glanced  
over his shoulder at Trip. "We're far enough from Enterprise to start those  
tests," he said.  
  
Trip moved to another console and tapped in a few commands. "Okay, I'm good  
to go whenever you're ready."  
  
"I'm scanning for a suitable target," Malcolm said, his voice all duty as  
they turned their attention to the task they'd come out here to complete.  
"There is a small field of meteorites not far from here; we're within  
range." He tapped commands into the targeting console as he spoke. "Target  
acquired; weapons locked." Malcolm hit a control to fire the plasma weapons.  
  
"Well?" Trip half turned in his seat, waiting for Malcolm's report.  
  
The Armory officer nodded. "Direct hit."  
  
"Nice."  
  
"Yes. I think we should try it a few more times, just to be sure."  
  
"Sure, I don't have anythin' else to do." Trip suppressed a grin at the  
lieutenant's obvious enthusiasm.  
  
A second test was as successful as the first and Malcolm's face was alive  
with satisfaction.  
  
"One more for good luck?" Trip asked and Malcolm nodded, priming the weapons  
for a third trial.  
  
"Target acquired. Weapons loc..." Malcolm's voice was obscured as the  
shuttlepod suddenly lurched to port, her engine racing as systems fought  
to right the vessel and remain on course. Malcolm grabbed the sides of his  
console to avoid being thrown from his seat.  
  
Trip was not as fast and the sharp jolt tossed him like a  
rag doll to the floor. He lay there for a moment, gasping for breath, the  
wind knocked out of him until Malcolm moved to help him up. "What the hell  
was that?"  
  
Malcolm returned to his station, tapping at the controls. "I wish I could  
tell you, sir," he said. "But sensors are offline."  
  
Trip frowned, rubbing at his ribs as he made his way to Malcolm's side. He  
stared at the readings on the console for a moment. "Whatever it was, it  
seems to have knocked out one of the relays." He turned and headed aft,  
pulling a toolkit from a locker and moving to remove an access panel. "I  
should be able to get it back online," he said. "In the meantime, you'd  
better hail Enterprise. Looks like we'll be heading home earlier than we  
thought."  
  
With a slight nod, Reed reached for the comm. panel and then hesitated as a  
blinking light caught his eye. "Communications are out too," he murmured.  
  
"Oh great," Trip replied, taking a seat on the floor and pulling a relay  
from the sensor grid. "Just what I needed to hear."  
  
"I'll set course for the asteroid field they were going to map," Malcolm  
said, "At least we still have navigational control."  
  
"Always a silver linin'," Trip remarked, busying himself with a laser  
probe.


	5. Respite and Resolurtions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoilers for Shuttlepod One

Trip regained consciousness slowly. He was immediately aware of two things.  
He could move his legs, and he was warm. He sighed. _'I musta died,'_ he  
thought. _'At least it's warm in heaven.'_  
  
He allowed his mind to drift; wriggling his toes as he gradually became  
aware of other things - sounds and sensations. A soft, incessant beeping  
sounded somewhere in the background, and there was a gentle throbbing  
vibration that he could feel all through his body. Both were familiar to  
him, but he couldn't be bothered working out why.  
  
"Trip?"  
  
Tucker started when a familiar voice spoke his name. He opened his eyes and a broad  
smile lit his features as he met the sea green eyes that looked down at him.  
"Hey, Cap'n! You made it too, huh?" He struggled to sit up, but Jon pushed  
him down gently.  
  
"Easy, you're not supposed to be up and about yet." The captain smiled.  
  
"Whaddya mean take it easy? I never heard anyone say you hadda take it easy  
in heaven!"  
  
"Heaven?" Archer laughed softly. "Well, I'll admit _Enterprise_ is a fine  
ship, but I wouldn't go that far."  
  
" _Enterprise_?" Trip frowned as realization dawned. The beeping was a heart  
monitor and that vibration was the engine, _his_ engine. He grinned and  
struggled to get up again. "I'm alive? I didn't... we didn't? _Malcolm!_ "  
  
"Steady, Trip!" Archer firmly restrained him. "Malcolm's going to  
be fine. Just lie still... you're both going to be all right." He released  
Tucker's shoulders as the commander finally quit trying to get off the  
biobed. "You need to rest up for a while, but there's no major damage done."  
He glanced over his shoulder towards the sickbay doors. "I'm not supposed to  
even be here, but I wanted to check in on you before I went to bed."  
  
"I knew we'd make it," Trip whispered. "I told him... I knew." The commander  
looked into Archer's eyes. "Even if _Enterprise_ was gone. I wasn't gonna just  
lay down and die out there, Cap'n." He glanced across at the sleeping  
armory officer as he remembered that last desperate act when he had climbed  
into the airlock. When he'd been perfectly willing to die - but that was  
different.  
  
Archer nodded and smiled. "You should sleep," he said. "We can talk about  
all this in the morning."  
  
"Okay..." Trip sighed. "It's nice to be home," he said, already  
drifting back to sleep.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Two days after his return from the brink of a cold and lonely death,  
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed made his way to the captain's cabin and paused for a  
moment before he pressed the door chime. Hearing Archer call for him to  
enter, Malcolm stepped into the cabin and came to attention.  
  
"Sir." He said quietly as the captain turned to look at him.  
  
"Malcolm, what can I do for you?" Archer indicated a chair, but Malcolm  
shook his head.  
  
"Thank you, sir, but this won't take long," he said. "I wanted to let you  
know I've reached a decision regarding my request for transfer."  
  
"I see." Archer leaned back in his seat and raised an eyebrow. "Go on."  
  
"Sir, with your permission, I would like to stay with the _Enterprise_."  
Malcolm lowered his eyes for a moment. "I... I think I can contribute to this  
mission, sir."  
  
Archer smiled broadly and nodded. "I'm glad to hear it, Lieutenant!" He  
extended a hand. "Welcome aboard."  
  
Malcolm shook the captain's hand and grinned. "Thank you, sir." He had  
realized when he saw the wreckage strewn across that asteroid that  
_Enterprise_ and her crew meant more to him than any group of people, or any  
place in his life had ever meant. The crushing sense of loss when he'd  
believed them all dead had destroyed his ability to think or reason. Had  
sent him into a black despair that he’d felt was quite capable of killing  
him.  
  
Added to that, was the fact that the one person who was left not only  
thought that Malcolm had a death wish, but had been willing to die himself  
rather than wait for fate to decide what would become of them. He still  
shuddered when he recalled Trip's determination to climb into that airlock  
and seal himself in so that Malcolm would have enough air to survive until  
_Enterprise_ reached them.  
  
"Was there something else?" Archer's voice cut through his thoughts and  
Malcolm shook his head. "No, sir." He gave the captain a half salute before  
he turned and left the room.  
  
Walking along the hallway to the lift, his thoughts again turned to that  
last hour of lucidity aboard the shuttle.  
  
_"I've invested far too much time trying to figure you out, Mister Tucker!  
I'm not about to accept that it was all for nothing!"  
  
Silence fell between them for several minutes, by that time the air was  
getting thin, and the exertion of their brief fight left them both panting for  
breath.  
  
"Mister Reed?" Trip said after a while.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I... I hope ya get the chance to figure out a whole lot more about me." The  
engineer leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.  
  
Turning to look at him, Malcolm was galvanized into action. "Wake up!" He  
shook the commander hard, forcing him to open his eyes. "Look at me! You're  
not going to sleep. Do you hear me? You... you stay awake!"  
  
"I'm tired, Malcolm... lemme sleep. No use... tryin n'more."  
  
"Don't you dare ... give up on me now!" Malcolm shook him again and then,  
when that seemed to have little effect, he pulled Tucker close and wrapped  
the blankets around them both the best he could._  
  
Malcolm shook himself out of his reverie as he approached his own quarters.  
Apart from the brief time in sickbay, he hadn't seen Trip since that day. He  
keyed his access code into his door and walked into the empty cabin.  
  
Standing in the middle of the room, he looked around and frowned. He had  
decided to stay on _Enterprise_ , because he realized that these people were  
more of a family than he'd experienced ever in his life. Yet here he was,  
alone and lonely just as he had been before the _Enterprise_ found the  
shuttle _Curie_ adrift in space.  
  
Malcolm had often wondered what it was in him that prevented him getting  
close to anyone. When he was younger, he'd explained it away by telling  
himself he was focused on his career. His father had drummed it into him  
that advancement was more important in the early stages of a career than  
companionship. He had managed to convince himself that was true for a few  
years.  
  
But then, there had been times when he did desire companionship, when he  
wanted a relationship with someone, and still the barriers would come up.  
  
It was happening again with Trip. He had been attracted to the commander for  
months and had not acted on it because of the fear that he would screw up  
again. Of course, that was exactly what he had done. No sooner was he in a  
position to explore the possibility of a relationship than old habits set in  
and he found himself stuck in a pattern that had ruined every relationship  
he ever had.  
  
_"You want me with ya an' then y'don't, I never know what's goin' on with  
you."_  
  
Trip's words. He had heard the same thing from every person, male or  
female that he ever tried to have a relationship with. He'd tried to explain  
it to Trip, back there on the shuttle, when the commander had grown tired  
of listening to him writing letters.  
  
_"Those girls I talked about, Rochelle, Deborah, Caitlin - none of them  
worked out because I could never get close to them."  
_  
That was it. He never got close to anyone. Never allowed anyone to get  
close. His paranoia and insecurity drove him either to attempt to control  
every aspect of the relationship or to push people away until they gave  
up on him.  
  
Malcolm closed his eyes and let his head fall against the back of the chair.  
He wished that Trip were here with him. He wanted Tucker more than he'd  
ever wanted anyone, and yet he was afraid to pull the man back into the  
pathetic dance that Malcolm Reed called having a relationship. He pressed  
the heels of both hands to his eyes. Maybe he should just get some sleep.  
He was still recovering from the harrowing ordeal on Shuttlepod One and  
didn't feel entirely up to a confrontation with the commander just yet.  
  
That it would be a confrontation, Malcolm was sure Trip never did anything subtly.  
Reed smiled at that. Perhaps that was a part of the man's appeal. He had a big mouth,  
and he was not averse to using it if he thought it would get him what he wanted.  
  
At the same time though, it had also saved them a lot of unnecessary  
posturing when Trip insisted on explaining why Malcolm had encountered him  
leaving the captain's quarters in such a disheveled state the morning of their  
ill-fated mission. Malcolm was well aware that he needed a partner who  
wasn’t afraid to shoot from the hip when it was needed.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, Charles Tucker III was that man. Malcolm yawned and  
dragged himself to this bed. He lay down and within moments he was sound asleep.


	6. Maneuvers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: I hope you will like the fact that _Event Horizon_ the movie, at least in my universe, has  
> survived till this time and is still enjoyed by those who see it. I thought  
> it was appropriate both for Travis, with his love of horror and ghost  
> stories, and for Malcolm, with his tactical mind. Enjoy!
> 
> * * *

"Are you going to eat that, or make a table center from it?" Travis  
Mayweather regarded Malcolm Reed across the table, his dark eyes shining  
with concern as he watched the lieutenant sculpt varying shapes in the  
mashed potato on his plate.  
  
"Hm?" Malcolm's blinked having obviously come back from a great distance.  
  
"You're playing with your food again, Malcolm..." Travis raised an eyebrow  
and looked pointedly at the artistic creation on the Armory officer's  
plate.  
  
"Yes." Malcolm pushed the plate aside and laid his hands in his lap. "I'm  
sorry. I haven't been much company have I?"  
  
"Are you okay?" Travis took a mouthful of his own dinner.  
"You've hardly eaten anything for the last week. "Are you  
sure everything checked out when you went to see the doctor?"  
  
"I'm fine, Travis," Reed said firmly. "I've just... not been very hungry."  
  
"Uh-huh." Travis replied. "If you ask me, you should see Phlox again.  
Maybe...maybe he missed something."  
  
"I _didn't_ ask you!" Malcolm snapped. He  
breathed a sigh. "Sorry. I guess I'm just tired." As he spoke, the  
lieutenant pressed a finger across the bridge of his nose, rubbing the place  
for a moment as he closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to snarl at you."  
  
Travis nodded, staring at his plate, frowning slightly. He wanted to  
let Malcolm know he was there for him, and he would also like to  
see him cheer up a little.  
"Hey, it's Wednesday," he said. "Why don't you stay and watch the movie?  
I don't know what's showing...some 20th century  
Science Fiction thing." He gave a winning smile. "C'mon, it's always fun to  
see just how wrong they got the technology."  
  
Malcolm Reed met the younger man's eyes for a moment. "I might just take you  
up on that... it's worth a laugh to see some of the weapons they imagined  
we'd be using by now."  
  
"Exactly!" Travis grinned and finished his dinner, glad that Malcolm had  
decided to accept his invitation. It would at least get the lieutenant out  
of his quarters for a few hours.  
  
Tucker was dog-tired, and yet he knew he wouldn't  
sleep. He'd been pulling double shifts for a week since the Shuttlepod 1  
incident doing anything to keep himself busy and out of the way of Malcolm  
Reed. To his surprise, he'd managed to not even catch a glimpse of the  
lieutenant in that time. Probably because he'd buried himself in  
engineering, sending staff members to attend to any requests from the  
armory, or issues in the situation room or on the bridge.  
  
He paused at the door to his quarters with a sinking feeling. He was getting  
tired of spending every off duty hour in his cabin. He couldn't avoid seeing  
Malcolm forever.  
  
Crewman Kelly had told him there was a good movie showing that evening, and  
hinted that he should take some time off to see it. He appreciated the  
gesture and had told her he might do so. Faced with the prospect of another  
solitary evening in his quarters, the thought became more  
attractive.  
  
"Trip?"  
  
The commander turned to find Captain Archer approaching him along the  
hallway. "Cap'n?" He forced a small, tired smile. "Somethin' I c'n do for  
ya?"  
  
"No." Archer stopped when he drew level with the engineer. "I was just  
wondering if you're doing anything tonight..." He smiled. "You've been  
working too hard; I thought we might go and see this movie that everyone's  
talking about."  
  
"Yeah, I was thinkin' of doin' that," Trip replied. "I was about to get  
freshened up and then head up there."  
  
Archer nodded. "Good... care for some company?"  
  
"I'd appreciate it." Trip's smile was slightly more genuine. "I just  
need ten minutes to get a bit more civilized." His glance took in his  
uniform.  
  
"Sure. I'll wait for you if you'd like?"  
  
Nodding, Trip turned to his door and keyed in the access code. He walked  
into his cabin and grimaced. "You'll hafta excuse the mess," he said  
apologetically as he showed the captain in. "I've been kinda rushed lately."  
  
Jonathan Archer looked around; mess was a good word for the disarray of  
Trip's quarters. The commander was not a neat freak by any stretch, but even  
this was way out of the ordinary for him. Clothing was strewn around on  
almost every available surface, and the small counter was cluttered with  
dirty coffee mugs and empty glasses. A half empty bottle of whiskey stood  
next to one of the glasses, and another, empty bottle was on  
the bedside stand.  
  
"Trip?" Archer turned to meet his friend's eyes, his own reflecting concern.  
  
The commander lowered his gaze. "I don't wanna talk about it, Jon."  
  
The very rare usage of the captain's first name told him Trip was serious.  
He sighed. "All right, I won't push it," he said, "But you know that I..."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Trip walked into the bathroom, not waiting  
to hear the rest of Archer's sentence. He didn't want more  
offers to talk, from anyone. So far, he'd had such offers from Hoshi, Phlox,  
and now his best friend. Everyone, it seemed, except the person he really  
needed to talk things out with.  
  
Malcolm had not attempted to contact him. He knew, because he checked his  
messages at least ten times a day. There had been nothing from Reed.  
  
He went through the motions of showering, shaving and getting into civilian  
clothes on autopilot. Once he was ready, he walked back out  
into the living area to find Jon in the act of dumping the last of the stale  
whiskey down the sink. He frowned, glancing around to see that the captain  
had also picked up his laundry and stowed it into the hamper, and had stacked  
some of the dishes on a stewards trolley.  
  
"Cap'n, you didn't have to..."  
  
"I wanted to." Archer cut him off and then waved towards the doors. "Shall  
we?"  
  
They made their way to the mess hall mostly in silence. Archer made one or  
two passing remarks about the engines and received monosyllabic responses,  
but he didn't seem too bothered by the engineer's reticence.

* * *

  
  
Travis walked to the chairs he and Malcolm had selected for the  
movie. He carried a large bowl of popcorn in one hand and balanced a small  
tray with two glasses of soda on the palm of the other. As he reached their  
seats, he handed the popcorn to Malcolm, and carefully sat down,  
lifting one of the glasses and taking a sip of the chilled cola drink. He  
smiled at Malcolm. "I think you're gonna enjoy this."  
  
"I hope so." Malcolm set the popcorn on the arms of the chairs between them  
and accepted a glass of soda. He took a sip and then suddenly froze, as his gaze  
went to the door and the two men who had just entered.  
  
Trip paused in the doorway, Captain Archer just behind him. Malcolm stared  
at the commander for several seconds, as his heart missed a beat  
before it leaped into a rapid and uncomfortable rhythm that made him  
breathless.  
  
Malcolm tore his gaze away eventually and turned to face the movie screen,  
wishing that the lights would go down and he could vanish into anonymity at  
least until the movie ended. He shot Travis a dark glance. "If I find out  
you had _anything_ to do with this..."  
  
"No! I swear," Travis said. "I had no idea..."  
  
Further conversation was precluded as the lights dimmed and  
people made a last minute scramble for seats. Malcolm slid down in his  
chair, keeping as low as possible as the opening scenes of the movie  
to played. He sighed, losing himself in the story.  
  
A ship named _Event Horizon_ had gone missing on a mission of exploration,  
and a rescue team were dispatched to find and salvage what they could.  
  
Malcolm found his mind occupied with solving the reason behind the apparent  
psychosis of the team sent to find the stricken ship as one by one, they  
turned on and murdered their crewmates. He forgot about Travis, and Trip and  
everyone else as the scenes unfolded.  
  
When the lights came up, Malcolm glanced at Travis who leaned back in  
his seat, eyes glazed and a somewhat hazy grin on his face. "Man, have you  
ever seen so much blood and gore?" the ensign asked, as he turned to  
Malcolm.  
  
Malcolm smiled slightly. "It _was_ rather gruesome," he said. "Let's hope  
 _Enterprise_ never has a bad day and decides to take it out on her crew."  
  
" _Enterprise...Event Horizon..._ " Travis tested the names on his tongue.  
"Hmm, you know, they almost sound too similar for comfort." He laughed at  
the look Malcolm gave him and got to his feet; stretching, he suppressed a  
yawn. "I should probably head out," he said. "I'm on early shift tomorrow."  
  
Malcolm nodded and stood up as well. He glanced around the room, and noticed  
the captain and Commander Tucker approaching. With a sigh, he steeled  
himself to greet them. Much as he would have preferred to leave, it  
would not be looked on well by the captain or anyone else for a junior  
officer to behave that way. He plastered a false smile on his lips as the  
captain called out to him.  
  
"Good evening, sir. Commander," he said politely as the two men came up to  
him.  
  
"Did you enjoy the movie?" Archer asked. "The special effects were something  
for its time, don't you think?"  
  
"It was an interesting storyline." Malcolm admitted. "I found myself  
wondering exactly what would turn well trained men against each other like  
that." He smiled slightly, "But the explanation was plausible."  
  
"'Hell is just a word. The reality is much, much worse,'" Trip quoted. "I  
liked that."  
  
Malcolm shot him a look, studying him for a long moment without speaking.  
Trip looked like hell. Malcolm averted his gaze just as Trip's blue  
eyes sought his.  
  
The captain smiled and nodded, pretending to catch sight of someone that he  
needed to speak to urgently. "Uh, if you'll excuse me," he glanced  
from Trip to Malcolm. He didn't say anything else, but moved away towards a  
small knot of junior officers who were standing near the doors in animated  
conversation.  
  
Malcolm watched Archer go, and clenched his jaw, looking for Travis who had  
also vanished. _I knew he was behind this somehow..._ Malcolm thought. _I'll  
kill him!  
_  
"Malcolm?" Trip's voice was almost apologetic.  
  
He turned his eyes to the commander, but he didn't speak.  
  
"Look, I had no idea that they were gonna do this," Trip said. "If I'd known  
I... I wouldn't've come." He looked away. "But since we're here an'  
all...uh..."  
  
Malcolm blinked a couple of times. Tucker's quiet tone wrenched at him and  
he had to fight to keep his mouth clamped shut. There were so many things he  
would like to say, but he grit his teeth and lowered his eyes to the floor.  
He couldn't risk it.  
  
He didn't want to get entangled in yet another relationship only to watch it  
grow sour and cold before his eyes. He especially couldn't stand it because  
it was Charles Tucker who stood in front of him pleading for a chance. He  
swallowed hard, trying to push the sick feeling in his throat down as he  
turned away, still without speaking and walked towards the doors.


	7. Confrontation

Trip stood rooted to the spot as Malcolm silently walked away.  
He muttered a curse and shook his head slightly. If  
Malcolm Reed thought that Charles Tucker III was desperate enough to chase  
him all around the ship trying to work things out, then Malcolm Reed had  
another think coming.  
  
Grinding his teeth in frustration, the engineer made his way over to where  
the captain stood talking with Crewman Cutler and a couple of other  
enlisted. He shook his head at Archer. "Nice try, Cap'n," he murmured. "But  
I guess it just wasn't enough." He reached for a glass of soda  
that sat on a serving table, taking a sip of the beverage and wishing for   
something stronger.  
  
Archer turned to look Trip in the eyes. "This has gone on long enough, and  
it's starting to affect the running of the ship," he said. "Work it  
out, Trip."  
  
"But I..."  
  
"That's an order." The captain turned away and Trip was left with no  
alternative than to follow the directive he'd been given.  
  
He sighed heavily. "Aye, sir." He put down his drink before he sullenly made  
his way out of the mess hall.  
  
He caught up with Malcolm outside the lift. "Lieutenant Reed,"  
he called as he approached. Grey eyes flicked in  
his direction and he noticed the sudden stiffening of the lieutenant's  
posture. _I don't like this anymore than you do,_ Trip thought as he came  
level with the man.  
  
"We need to talk... and I ain't takin' no for an answer this time," He said  
firmly, and interjected as Malcolm opened his mouth to speak. "We can do  
this in your quarters, or we can have a hollerin' match here in  
the corridor. I don't care either way, but I am gonna clear the air with you  
once an' fer all!"  
  
Malcolm clamped his mouth shut and merely nodded once. He turned and stepped  
into the lift when the door opened, and then pressed the button for E deck.  
  
In the lift, Trip turned to look at Reed. "That was damn rude the way you  
stalked out back there... what the hell is goin' on inside that head of  
yours?"  
  
Malcolm glanced at him but said nothing.  
  
The door slid open and Malcolm stepped out, walking briskly along the  
hallway towards his cabin.  
  
"Are you gonna say anythin' or is this gonna be like all the rest of our  
conversations lately?" Trip caught him up. "Ya know I'm getting' mighty sick  
o' listenin' t'myself yap!" He broke his stride as the lieutenant continued  
walking as though he had not heard anything. Trip's iron control finally  
snapped. "Dammit! MALCOLM!" he bellowed.  
  
Malcolm stopped in his tracks and turned to face Trip. "Oh, and I suppose you  
think that what happened tonight is amusing? You can't see it for what it  
really is. A poorly disguised attempt at interfering in something that is  
none of _their_ bloody business?" He turned away jaw clenched as he made  
the final few yards to his cabin. "I never could abide interfering  
busybodies!"  
  
"Oh really? Then how d'ya feel about friends. Huh? Whaddya have to say about  
good people who give enough of a damn about ya to try and do something nice  
for ya? Well, Malcolm? How do y'feel about that? So what if it was clumsy,  
what'd it prove other than that these people care enough about your selfish  
bratty ass to try and make ya happy!"  
  
"Selfish?" Malcolm's face was livid with rage as he turned to his door,  
punching in the access code.  
  
"Damn straight I called ya selfish!" Trip snapped as he followed Malcolm  
into his cabin, not waiting for an invitation. He gripped Malcolm's arm and  
swung him around so that they were face to face. "Every damn thing you've  
done for the last month has been proof-positive that you don't give a damn  
about anyone other than yourself, Malcolm!" He drew a deep breath. "Selfish  
is when you play games with someone, pullin' em close an' pushin' em away  
again... Selfish is when you get all snotty because someone doesn't play your  
games your way an'...an' selfish is when you storm out o' the mess hall with  
your ass in a knot after some friends try t'do somethin' nice fer ya! Well  
A'hm tellin' ya. A'hve had about as much of it as Ahc'n take. Grow up,  
_Mister_ Reed!"  
  
In an instant, Trip gained a crystal-clear understanding of why Malcolm Reed  
was the chief tactical officer aboard Enterprise as Malcolm shoved him  
backwards until he fetched up against a wall. Before he could think or  
react, Malcolm was on him. One hand at his throat, the fingers poised in a  
position that would easily cut off his air should he move. Dark, stormy eyes  
met his. Murder glimmered in their smoky depths as Malcolm stared at him,  
holding him pinned there against the wall.  
  
"I could kill you in a moment, Commander," Malcolm breathed.  
  
"I don't doubt it." Trip raised his chin a little as he spoke, watching the  
man's eyes as they stared at each other in silence.  
  
Slowly the lieutenant's gaze softened to something less dangerous but just  
as wild. He growled and leaned in  
to claim Trip's mouth in a bruising kiss.  
  
Trip closed his eyes, moaning a response as he willingly parted his lips to  
Malcolm's questing tongue. He felt the hand at his throat change from a  
menacing claw to a gentle caress as Malcolm pressed closer, pushing his  
thigh between Trip's legs and spreading them slightly.  
  
Tucker's breath was harsh when Malcolm finally released his mouth and drew  
back a little. He smiled and passed his tongue across his lips. "Does that  
mean I get to live a little longer?"  
  
"I'll consider it," Malcolm whispered, leaning in to claim another kiss.  
  
Trip allowed the kiss but broke away after a moment. "Malcolm, we  
hafta talk," he said quietly.  
  
Malcolm sighed and released Tucker. "If you insist," he said. He moved to sit  
at his desk and waved Trip to the armchair.  
  
"I do insist, Malcolm. You know we have to work some things out." Trip  
looked down at his hands, studying them for a moment as he searched for  
words. "I need to know where I stand." He looked up and met cloudy grey  
eyes. "I need to know what to think about... us."  
  
"Is there an us?" Malcolm broke the eye contact, staring into the middle  
distance. "After the last time, I wasn't sure." He said. "You  
were warm and willing one minute, and then... you decided you had to leave."  
He turned to look at Trip. "Why did you do that?"  
  
Trip drew a deep breath. "I dunno. I guess I got scared. I wanted to be with  
you, but not on the same terms as the day we destroyed _Curie_." He shook  
his head. "I want to be with you because I choose to, Malcolm. Not because  
you... command it or whatever the hell you were doin'"  
  
He watched as pain registered in the stormy eyes and Malcolm looked  
away. "What? What's wrong?" He still marveled at how Reed could be  
so reserved on duty, yet in the privacy of his quarters he was so  
different, almost as though his very soul dwelled in those eyes.  
  
"I thought that was what you wanted," Malcolm almost whispered. "You said so  
yourself. You said you: 'like a man who knows what he wants.'" The tortured  
gaze touched Trip's face and flickered away again.  
  
"That's true," Trip said with a sigh. "I do like a man who says what's on  
his mind." He chuckled, "but you were usin' a pulse canon where you only  
needed a phase pistol." He reached for Malcolm's hand and took hold of it,  
stroking his thumb across the pale skin. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong  
idea...I tend to do that a lot."  
  
"I've been such an idiot!" Malcolm pulled his hand away and stood up, pacing  
the width of his cabin.  
  
"No." Trip stood and moved to block the lieutenant's restless motion. "We  
just didn't communicate, Malcolm." He laid his hands on Reed's shoulders.  
"I'm as much to blame for this as anyone," he murmured.  
  
"I'm not... good at this," Malcolm said softly. "I don't... share myself  
easily. Perhaps it would be better if we..."  
  
Trip pressed a finger to Malcolm's lips and then followed it with a kiss.  
"Let's not make any decisions just now, all right? We're both tired. Likely  
to be irrational." He searched Malcolm's face for a moment,  
seeking the answer in the grey eyes that met his.  
  
"Stay with me tonight." Malcolm gazed into his eyes, "Please?"  
  
This time there was no hesitation. Trip nodded. "I'll stay."  
  
~FINIS~


End file.
